


here there be monsters

by mel_lifluously



Series: AU Central [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), The Secret World
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Body Horror, Drabble Collection, Ensemble Cast, Epistolary, F/F, Found Family, Gen, General Creepiness, Secret Societies, Sirens, Urban Fantasy, all of the major factions play a role in some way, i love the secret world so much and it makes for such a good urban fantasy au setting, kind of - just to be safe, kind of - that's the basic gist of it, oh man it's obscure au time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mel_lifluously/pseuds/mel_lifluously
Summary: The Mighty Nein, the Secret World and the clashes therebetween. Shenanigans, shady dealings, monsters, arcanum, chaos and a dash of found family for flavor.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett / Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast & Jester Lavorre
Series: AU Central [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073990
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Council of Venice File #1889: Regarding the "Mighty Nein"

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man this has been a long time coming. I've been a fan of the Secret World for a long while - going on five or six years now - and I've always wanted to write a long - running fic or AU for it because of its incredible world building, sense of atmosphere and dark, wry humor. And now it's here! :D  
> I really hope you guys like this one and enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. It's a little weird, a little dark and a lot of fun to dive into.

**Council of Venice File #1889: Regarding the "Mighty Nein"**

_(File Notes Provided By: Bryce Feelid, Senior Council Member)_

Unauthorized cabal operating outside the bounds of faction rule. Mercenary in nature, slaying monsters on commission and apparent personal whim. 

Members include:

**Fjord “Tusktooth” Stone**

Age: 31

Affiliation: Phoenicians (past)

Status: Active

Skills: sailing, navigation, occultism (Lovecraftian), inside knowledge of emerging cult of Uk’atoa, combat (shortsword, falchion, manipulation of water and eldritch energy), interpersonal

Notes: Previously served as a member of the crew of the Tide’s Breath (shipping vessel #4682) before it ran aground along the coast of Solomon Island. Reported sole survivor. Cagey and mercurial in personality - seems to be using charisma as a shield.

Threat level: undetermined; further research required

**[REDACTED] “just call me Jester” Lavorre**

Age: 24 

Affiliation: Dragon (current initiate)

Status: Active

Skills: field medicine, diplomacy, occultism (faerie, sirens), combat (chaos magic, battleaxe, illusion), physical strength, interpersonal

Notes: Described as “disarmingly, inescapably charming” - an accurate assessment. Bright, friendly, exuberant and intense in personality. Recruited by the Dragon for her connection to a chaotic entity known only as the Traveler, who she considers a personal friend. Will not stop sending messages to high - ranking Council members at all hours of the day and asking inappropriate personal questions. 

Threat level: moderate to **high** ; _very_ unpredictable 

  
**Beauregard “Beau” Lionett**

Age: claims to be 24; no birth date on record

Affiliation: Unaffiliated (working with offshoot organization)

Status: Active

Skills: research, archival, combat (hand to hand, bo staff), agility, physical strength, occultism (translation and interpretation of ancient texts)

Notes: Archivist and expositor for the Cobalt Soul (see file #7492). Documented animosity against the big three factions, particularly the Illuminati, who are actively hunting her for crimes including “embarrassingly obvious espionage,” “blatant theft and destruction of rare artifacts” and “unauthorized use of hexadecimal #0047ab - get your own fucking color.”

Threat level: moderate; could be put to good use with enough oversight, but defiance of authority is dangerous

  
**~~[REDACTED] [REDACTED]~~ **

**~~~~“Caleb Widogast”**

Age: 33

Affiliation: Templar (past; dismissed from service for “personal reasons”)

Status: Active

Skills: research, archival, combat (pyromancy, wide range of support magics), interrogation, diplomacy, occultism (translation / utilization of spells, incantations, rituals, etc.), 

Notes: Unknown but reportedly “troubled” past. Anxious, deeply secretive and paranoid. Quite charming and capable in diplomatic / interrogative situations. Shows signs of significant post - traumatic stress, particularly around fire. 

Threat level: **high** ; too many worrying unknowns coupled with extensive knowledge of dangerous magic

  
**Yasha “Orphanmaker” Nydoorin**

Age: 28

Affiliation: Unaffiliated; unsuccessfully sought after for recruitment by the Templar

Status: Active

Skills: incredible physical strength, combat (greatswords), occultism (fluent in celestial and abyssal languages, angelic mythology), inside knowledge of now - inactive Angel of Irons cult 

Notes: Very intimidating figure, but surprisingly mild - mannered and quiet in personality. Connections to the nomadic Dolorav Tribe (see file #2197), though she shows marked discomfort with discussing them. Extensive documented history of violence. Reported connection with dangerous elemental entity known as the “Stormlord” - possibly associated with Kingsmouth crisis?

Threat level: **high;** needs little additional explanation

  
**Veth “Nott the Brave” Brenatto**

Age: 25

Affiliation: Unaffiliated

Status: Active

Skills: agility, marksmanship (crossbow, handgun), chemistry, occultism (transformative magic), stealth, infiltration 

Notes: An interesting individual. Managed to steal multiple minor trinkets from the office during her interview, including the interviewer’s spare shirt buttons, an entire drawer - full of pens and a gold paperweight. Past is not well - documented, but involved hostile goblin clans and unauthorized use of transformative magic. Eccentric, mischievous and chaotic in personality. 

Threat level: cautionary **high;** unpredictable, impulsive and resistant to tempering authority

**Caduceus “Caddyshack” Clay**  
Age: Unknown (approximately early twenties)

Affiliation: Unknown (member of the renowned Clay family of clerics and mystics)

Status: Active

Skills: field medicine, wilderness survival, occultism (nature sprites, elementals, undead, faerie), various fields of magic (ability to commune with plants and animals, banish spirits, summon swarms of insects, heal / spare the dying)

Notes: Interviewer’s favorite - expect bias in their conclusion. Reportedly offered them a cup of tea and answered questions genially (if often bemusedly). Still worthy of caution considering his mysterious past, family history of powerful magic and deep connection to an apparently Agarthic spirit (deity?) known as the “Wildmother.”

Threat level: undetermined; continue research and proceed with caution; attempt to contact family if possible


	2. negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau Lionett, archivist, researcher and amateur artifact thief, has been pushing her luck a little too far. It was only a matter of time before the children of eye and pyramid took notice.

“Beau - can I call you Beau?” The man in blue sitting across from her steeples his fingers, looking at her over the rims of those obnoxious fucking sunglasses with a casually quirked eyebrow. “How many times are we gonna have this conversation?”

“How many times are you gonna track me down so that we _have_ to have this conversation?” Beau answers tonelessly, shifting in her seat as far away from him and his cat - with - the - cream smile as possible. 

“See, that’s the thing. That’s on _you._ We could both be doing so many other things right now. But you’ve just gotta keep poke - poke - poking at matters that don’t concern you. And I know it’s not really your fault! Lifelong impulsivity, defiance of authority, they’re all very well documented.”

He taps the thick, silver - embossed file he’d laid out on the table. “But this is becoming a problem. A problem we’re going to have to solve through more _serious measures_ if you catch my meaning. And I’ll be honest with you, I like you, I really do. I think you have the potential to be exactly what we're looking for. I don’t want to see that go to waste."

“I’m not scared of surveillance. You know what my dad was like, it’s the same kind of shit he did, it doesn’t bother me.”

“And we’ve made note of that, believe me. But tell me, Beau -” He fixes her with a much colder look, trapping her in his gaze so she can’t look away as his grin sharpens at the edges. “How do you think Jester feels about it?”

And before she can stop it, Beau freezes. Her breathing stutters. Her hands shake.

“That is what she’s going by now, right? Jester? She seems like a sweet kid. I’d hate to have one of these conversations with her _,_ wouldn’t you? And poor mama Marion. The dirt we have on her, good gods. It’d be awful for that to get out. Not to mention what we know about your friend Caleb - he’s been through hell in a goddamn handbasket, hasn’t he? The scars, the fire, the, ah, _negotiation training._ Leave it to the Templars to treat a soldier like shit.”

“What do I have to do.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“What do I have to do, for you to _leave them the fuck alone._ ”

“Oh, Beau, I’m so glad you asked! Why don’t we take a stroll down to Brooklyn and I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write. Tense conversations and charismatic, intimidating antagonists are my favorite tropes.


	3. Council of Venice File #9647: Regarding Jester Lavorre, the Traveler and the disappearance of one “Robert Sharpe”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester Lavorre has been an individual of interest to our organization for quite some time, and for a myriad of reasons. Most worrying, though, is her connection to the entity known as the Traveler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus Archives vibes with this one! It was really fun to write
> 
> Minor content warning for body horror and mentions of Lord Sharpe's general creepy behavior

( _File Notes Provided By: Bryce Feelid, Senior Council Member)_

Jester Lavorre has been an individual of interest to our organization for quite some time. Her family members are some of the only direct siren descendants documented in recent years (Marion Lavorre, Jester’s mother, is herself the daughter of the renowned “siren of the southern coast” Annalise Lavorre), and her status as the heir of the Lavish Chateau gives her access to arcane and material resources most initiates could scarcely dream of.

Most worrying, though, is her connection to the entity known as the Traveler.

The Traveler is not a well - documented being - his history is vague and fiercely contested. Jester’s description of him - red hair, green eyes, cloaked in green and gold - is consistent with folkloric depictions of Celtic fae, but our envoys in the faerie courts do not recognize his name. He has evident ties to chaos magic, but the Dragon have no records on how his powers may have manifested. Even Jester's own cabal members have little to say about the being beyond a succinct “I don’t trust him, but I trust Jessie” from Veth Brenatto. 

Jester’s interactions with the Traveler seem to have begun in childhood. “I was pretty little when I met him, I think, I don’t remember it too well. It feels like he’s _always_ been around, you know? Always been with me. Like when I summoned him it was just opening a door that was kinda sorta there but got stuck when you tried to get it open on your own. He grew up with me.”

When pressed on the matter of “summoning,” Jester notably went quiet. “I don’t really know how I did it. I haven’t had to since the first time he came around. Mama said that I picked flowers from the gardens around the Chateau and lined them up on my desk and pulled the petals off like he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not. I told her I was wishing for a friend. And when she left - there he was.”

The relationship between Jester and the Traveler from that point on seemed to work as a normal friendship (or as normal a friendship between a siren - daughter and an apparent fae can be). He did not ask her for the typical patron - follower offerings or sacrifices, content to help her play pranks and teach her the healing magic that she wields to this day. 

Things grew notably more complicated when Robert Sharpe entered the picture. Jester responded with immediate disgust at the mention of his name and elaborated:

“He was like this _really_ gross and creepy guy who would bother my mama when she was working. He acted like he _owned_ her. I hated it. One night he got super mad at her when she asked him to back off and I locked him out of the building and asked if the Traveler could please get him to leave her alone. And he hasn’t bothered us since then. So I guess it worked.*”

_*Note - The body of Robert Sharpe was found in the woods of rural Ireland by a team of Templar agents, roughly six months after Ms. Lavorre’s interview was held. The team were reluctant to comment on the incident beyond the fact that his remains were in “disturbing” condition - thorns piercing through his skin; stinging nettles looped about his wrists like shackles; a rictus of fear frozen on his face long after death, his open, dilated eyes an unnatural shade of green._

_Jester asked the Traveler to take action, and so it seems he answered._


	4. shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that it would only take chalk runes, arcane fire, good friends and dubiously poisonous dead people tea to make Kingsmouth feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warm cozy found family feelings <3  
> I hope all of you are staying warm and safe out there and enjoying holiday celebrations / just having a nice winter! This year has been incredibly difficult but we've made it to the end and there is still hope to be found. We'll be okay.

“Beauregard, Miss Lavorre, if I could borrow both of you for a moment please.”

The blessed call echoes strangely through the darkened, empty streets of Kingsmouth. Barely audible over the crash of the churning waves and the less - than - savory chorus of draug, frizzled at the edges by arcane static, it’s still beautiful music to the ears of the watch team. 

“Thank fuck,” Beau mutters, gathering up her staff and pulling her coat around her with a shiver. “It’s freezing out here.”

“This doesn’t technically mean that we’re going inside, you know,” Jester muses thoughtfully. “Because Caleb’s been working all day on the - the rune web thing. The warding, in the church yard. He might need our help with that.”

“Choosing to be optimistic for now, Jess. Choosing to be optimistic.”

As they trek back up the beach and through the barren town, the fog settles over them in a frigid, smothering cloak. The wind whistles through, carrying the scent of salt and rot. Their footsteps ring out like thunderclaps on the asphalt.

“You think Caduceus made tea?” Beau asks, thinking longingly of earthenware mugs and fragrant plumes of steam.

“Oh, yeah, he did, he told me before we left! He ran out of his normal leaves so he asked the pastor if he could take some petals from the flowers in the garden. He said that they taste ‘complex.’”

“Not, like, poisonous complex?”

“Oh, no, they’re probably safe, Caduceus is very good with plants. He would know.” A pause. “Probably.”

“Probably” is the most certainty they can get these days. She’ll take it. Even poisoned tea is better than this cold.

A few more moments of silence pass as they continue down main street toward their little cottage stronghold. 

“How did it get this bad, do you think?” Jester asks finally. There’s a note of sadness in her voice. “I mean, new people keep getting sent out here, we see them all the time. Why has nothing changed?”

“Maybe they’re not actually here to help.” Beau’s bitter anger drips from the words. The three, the Council, even the Cobalt Soul - all throwing their thousands of foot soldiers out here and still not lifting a finger to really help. Too caught up in their own petty conflict to give even half of a shit. 

“Maybe they’re not. I thought they might be, but... I don’t really know anymore.” Jester’s voice pitches back up with strained, forced cheer. “But we are! We’re trying to do good things here. So maybe it’ll all be okay.”

“Yeah. Maybe it will be.” A wry smile plays across her face. “Imagine how mad they’d be if we were the ones to fix things. Breaking news: unaffiliated group of fuck ups are the ones to singlehandedly lift Kingsmouth out of darkness. Shock and awe abounds.”

“Oh, they’d be so pissed,” Jester giggles, a little shakily. “I’d probably lose my job too but you know what? It would be worth it.”

The asphalt beneath their feet turns to gravel, then soft grass. Above them looms the steepled, crumbling roof of their base of operations. A flicker of Caleb’s flame is visible through the cracked window, familiar and comforting. 

“After you,” Beau offers, pulling open the rotting door with a squeak of old hinges. Jester flashes her that smile that makes her heart flutter, curtsies with the tails of her coat and steps through. 

The house is quiet this time of night. Two mugs of tea (Gaia bless you, Caduceus) sit warming on one of Veth’s hot plates. The week’s watch schedule and a scribbled note welcoming them home lay scattered across the table. 

Creaking footsteps and a burst of warmth herald Caleb’s arrival as they sit down to sip their tea. “Ladies,” he murmurs sleepily. “Glad to see you made the journey safely. If you would accompany me to my study in a moment, please, there is something I could use your help with.”

Caleb’s “study,” as they’ve generously taken to calling it, is nothing more than a cluster of boxes and teetering stacks of books tucked away in one of the smaller abandoned rooms. In the time they’ve been gone, though, it seems he’s made a few notable additions to the space. A tin of sidewalk chalk and Caleb’s red - cased “work phone,” the screen lit up with complex diagrams, have been placed on the floor, surrounded by gently shifting hills of chalk dust. 

“Have either of you sketched protective wards before?”

A beat of awkward silence. 

“Excellent, we have the same level of experience then. I was taught to do this on paper some time ago, but I have never had to put it into practice. And admittedly I am not sure if the method they taught me will hold up in this situation. Normally we would sketch these in ink, recite the blessing of the crimson knighthood and hope for the best, but I have long, long since put that out of my mind.”

He pauses, brushes aside a bit of dust from the screen and squints at it. “And besides, the two of you do not need blessings, you are good and capable exactly as you are.”

Jester immediately coos, folding her hands theatrically over her heart and rushing over to give him a side - hug. “Aww, Caleb, you’re the sweetest, thank you! We love you very much as well.”

Beau crouches down beside him and pops him gently on the shoulder with a little smile of her own. “We know you care about us, man.”

He blushes, scrubbing awkwardly at his face with one hand. “Yes, of course, you’re very welcome. Anyway. Wards. Jester, if you would not mind, I trust your artistic prowess much more than my own. Take these -” he offers her a handful of chalk - “and Beauregard, if you would help me to translate, we should be able to have these transcribed within the hour. They will keep us safe from scrying eyes and ensure that no one can enter this building without our knowledge.”

Unexpected warmth blooms in Beau’s chest. “Scrying eyes. You’re gonna keep us safe from -”

“Anyone who should wish to harm you,” he confirms. “Any of you. You will not be threatened while you are here, I swear it.”

It feels like a massive weight is lifted off her shoulders. She slumps a little, the livewire tension running through her ebbing away. “Thanks, Caleb.” 

“Of course.” He squeezes her hand in his chalk - dusted own, and the three of them sketch in quiet for a while, listening to the crackle of arcane fire, the gentle snores of their party members from the next room over. For the first time since they’ve arrived, they’re at peace.


	5. interlude: enter the buzzing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of lore snippets / writing exercises I've been writing in between taking finals and getting supremely creeped out by the Savage Coast! The writing style of the Buzzing is so interesting and challenging to emulate.

Our wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see. 

TRANSMIT - initiate Cyrengreen signal - RECEIVE - initiate lupine frequency - THE MOON THAT BREAKS AT NIGHT FOR WHICH I HAVE TO HOWL - initiate the baying hound chorus - WITNESS - the Song of the Lorelei

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate Zemnian signal - RECEIVE - initiate scorched - and - scarred protocol - AND OFF TO SCHOOL WE GO! - initiate the chosen one’s lament - WITNESS - the Soltryce Academy

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate void signal - RECEIVE - initiate Corvidae cadence - THE LADY IN WAITING - initiate the black feather ballad - WITNESS - the Raven Queen

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate Savalir signal - RECEIVE - initiate mycelium syntax - SING THEE TO THY REST - initiate the gravekeeper’s lullaby - WITNESS - the Blooming Grove

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate the cobalt frequency - RECEIVE - initiate the bloody - knuckle ballad - SHE’S A LITTLE RUNAWAY - initiate the black - eyed beautiful gaze - WITNESS: Beauregard Lionett.


	6. Innsmouth Academy Disciplinary Report: Regarding Clarabelle Clay

**INNSMOUTH ACADEMY DISCIPLINARY REPORT**

* * *

  * Student Name: Clarabelle Annemarie Clay



  * Grade Level: Sophomore



  * Field(s) of Study: Biological Sciences, Druidcraft



  * Nature of Transgression(s): truancy, academic dishonesty, unauthorized magic use (low – level necromancy)



  * Notes: Clarabelle is an incredibly bright young woman with a wealth of natural talent and an attention problem that is unfortunately becoming more of an issue. She is often fidgety, restless and distracted, turning in unfinished, plagiarized work, neglecting her studies and skipping class to wander the woods on her own. Her budding affinity for resurrection magic and necromancy is also cause for concern. As much as our staff would love to encourage her passions, **raising the dead is dangerous** , especially given the current state of Solomon Island, and we have yet to find a suitable alternative outlet for her powers.



_First resurrection ritual at fifteen. They grow up so fast._

_She was admittedly bringing back mushrooms and moss – no soul to get in the way and complicate things - but still interesting. Keep an eye on her and make her an offer when she graduates. We might have a prodigy on our hands._


	7. interlude: thoughts on language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some rambly cobbled together thoughts on the Clay family, the Lavorre family and the weirdness that sometimes bleeds over from generation to generation.

Every Clay sibling grows up knowing the language of Agartha. Their words are rolled and shaped by the thrumming buzz, as malleable as their namesake. Ancient rites trip saccharine - slow off their tongues, surging with sleepy power. Their voices carry in the whisper of leaves, the hum of the hive, the shift and sway and hiss of steam and centuries - old metal. (It is said that when they speak, Gaia herself answers, her voice and theirs intertwining. But only they know the truth, and - judging by the bright red stickers that plaster their files - they aren’t inclined to share it. It’s best just to take the cup of tea you’re offered and be on your way.)

The Lavorre children sing in the language of the sea, beautiful and terrible as proper sirens should be. Their voices pour forth, silvery - sweet, with the rhythm of the tide, drawing the listener impossibly closer - closer - _closer_ until they drift slack and senseless into the waves. (The current generation of Lavorres - the Ruby and Sapphire - they’re trying. They really are. Not a single accidental drowning on their record. But the ocean still calls, and they still have to answer.)


	8. beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The glorious formation of the Mighty Nein cabal.
> 
> Bryce Feelid has a strange day at the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entirely inspired and bolstered on by lovely comments! <3 You folks make my day and give me the motivation to keep adding on to this little AU.

“So, let me run through this one more time. Why did you ask me to meet with you again?"

“We pissed off everyone else.”

Bryce resists the very tempting urge to put their head in their hands and instead squeezes their eyes shut and traces a circle over their temple with their thumb. They can feel a monster of a headache coming on. An eldritch abomination, really. Filth - drenched and looming.

When they open their eyes, the familiar sight of the Nein scattered around their office swims into view. Nott is perched on the edge of their desk, undoubtedly having just raided their pen cup from the look of the ink smudges on her hands. Jester is neatly crosslegged on the floor, shuffling through an exceedingly gaudy deck of tarot cards (are those rainbow rhinestones?) and whispering to the other Dragon initiate, Mollymauk. Fjord and Yasha post up along the wall on either side of the door like awkward sentinels.

Beauregard and Caleb are the only ones to actually sit in the chairs Bryce provided, but they’re off in the corner, slouching almost shoulder to shoulder and scrolling through the latter’s constantly buzzing phone.

Just as chaotic and disorganized as always. It’s almost comforting.

Almost.

“When you say ‘everyone,’ Bryce manages at last, “who exactly do you mean?”

Caleb speaks up for the first time since he’s arrived, his voice steady in contrast with the restless wringing of his hands. “We have been trying to ingratiate ourselves with the major powers since we started operating a few months ago, as you know. And we’ve, ah - failed. On most attempts.”

“We’ve fucked with a _lot_ of people,” Jester adds sagely, nodding. “I mean there were those guys in black with the pamphlets that liked us, but they wanted us to do really creepy culty stuff, so they don’t count.”

“Orochi hates everyone but _especially_ hates Nott. Illuminati hates me and Molly but likes Caleb.” Beauregard ticks them off on her fingers as she goes. “Templars hate Caleb but love Yasha. Dragon likes those two -” she waves toward the crosslegged pair - “but probably no one else, because none of the messages they send us make any sense.”

“I did offer to translate them for you,” Mollymauk reminds her cheerily. “It’s a real shame, isn’t it Bryce, how some people are just too proud to accept help when it comes along.” He quiets at the cutting glare and emphatic middle finger he receives, but his grin remains.

“No one has been willing to take the package deal so far, but we have occasionally received individual recruitment offers,” Caleb cuts in, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction as Beauregard’s fists ball and spark with flickers of energy. “I believe Yasha, Fjord and I are singled out the most often.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute, who’s this guy getting called by?” Nott pipes up, waving an accusing finger in Fjord’s direction. “You’ve been hiding something from the whole group, haven’t you, _Fjord?”_

The room quiets as all eyes turn toward the leftmost doorway sentinel, who sighs and scrubs a sheepish hand along his jaw. “Got a couple job offers from the Phoenicians. Didn’t take any of ‘em. I figured they’d buckle down harder if I told you all.”

Nott’s lamplight eyes narrow, doubtful, but she slowly retracts the finger. Bryce takes the break in the tension to re - organize their thoughts and hopefully get back to the point of the meeting.

“This is all very useful and … admittedly somewhat troubling information, but I’m still not entirely sure what you need my help with. I’d love to help you, really, but - you ‘pissed off everyone else.’ What can I do about that?”

To Bryce’s surprise, Fjord is the one who answers the question. He straightens up with all the poise of a tried - and - true businessman and crosses the room with steady stride, depositing a crisply folded letter on their desk. “This. This is what we need your help with.”

The document is remarkably ordinary looking, just plain white paper and black printer ink. It looks like whoever obtained it went through the proper channels, too - it’s embossed with the same Venetian lion as any other piece of paperwork that’s crossed their desk today.

The heading that finally catches their eye is also, in its own right, very normal, but it stops them dead in their tracks all the same.

**FORM #7943: FIELD TEAM APPLICATION**

"We’ve been talking it over, and we decided that what we need is neutrality. A patron who isn’t going to cherrypick who they work with and throw the rest of us to the wolves. The Council’s agreed to take us on under the condition that we have an established contact. Jester, Caleb and Molly’ll have to manage their outside responsibilities first, but everything else we learn out there would go directly to you.”

Bryce looks at the paper, then at Fjord. Then back at the paper. They feel a bit faint. “This is - this is a very interesting offer, but it brings up so many logistical problems. All of you will need to be thoroughly screened and interviewed, it could take months. And they -” they gesture to Jester, Caleb and Molly with an anxious wave of their hand - “they won’t be terminated for this? Changing sides, it breaks so many rules, they could be killed where they stand.”

“It’s not technically changing sides, though,” Jester offers. “We’re still doing our jobs and all that and they take priority but we’re also ‘furthering the universal effort’ by passing along ‘approved, Council - relevant information.’ So there’s no reason for anyone to kill us.”

“The ‘universal effort’ is not particularly well - liked, believe me, you would be constantly threatened and hunted down for that alone -”

“And that is a risk we are willing to take.” Caleb’s voice is even and firm, his keen eyes meeting Bryce’s steadily. A murmuring ripple of assent passes through the room at his words - a nod from Jester; a wry salute and a “we’ll get it taken care of” from Beauregard; a soothing hum from Yasha and a surprisingly earnest grin from Mollymauk.

“We have experience with threats. We have experience with hounding. The nature of our work puts our lives on the line every single day, and we are still here. If you would have us, we would not be scared away, I can promise you that.”

_Breathe in, breathe out, Bryce. Take the opportunities as they come._ "And all of you are okay with this? You're certain that you know what you're getting into?"

"Not one of us would still be here if we weren't," Fjord confirms.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Bryce breathes in, breathes out and picks up their pen. "What name would you like me to file your cabal under?"

"We're the Mighty Nein. Pleasure doing business with you."


	9. interlude: hive hum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lore? More lore.
> 
> (also i wish the hive hum tag on twitter was still active that was so cool)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "sunken bells are tolling" is in reference to this incredible, beautifully chilling art piece! (Content warning for flashing lights)
> 
> https://kelgrid.tumblr.com/post/614881503516721152/the-m9-vs-the-storm-inspired-by-hellboy

TRANSMIT - initiate the restless sleep - RECEIVE - unfold the peacock feather fractal - LOOK PRETTY IN THE COFFIN - initiate the young god protocol - RIDE THE WIND AND GO - WITNESS: the ballad of Mollymauk Tealeaf.

TRANSMIT - initiate the passing of the torch - RECEIVE - initiate the changeling frequency - THE WATCHER IN THE NIGHT - initiate the opening of eyes -‘TIL HOMEWARD BOUND WE BE - WITNESS: the return of the Nonagon.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate Lucidian signal- RECEIVE - initiate the Leviathan writhe - SUNKEN BELLS ARE TOLLING - initiate the knife in the dark - THE WAVES TURN THE MINUTES TO HOURS - WITNESS: the wreck of the Tide's Breath.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

TRANSMIT - initiate the spun - sugar spiral - RECEIVE - initiate the bramble - wreathed gateway - SHE'S AWAY TO CARTERHAUGH, AS FAST AS SHE CAN GO! - initiate the sweet trickster's smile - WITNESS: the Jester and the Traveler. 


End file.
